


Useless Kitchen Gadgets

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: jacksepticeye
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Worship, Bondage, Divorce, Loneliness, M/M, Praise, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Chase is down.Anti does his best to cheer Chase up.





	Useless Kitchen Gadgets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tanejia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanejia/gifts).



> Edited by Angel. Thank you, babe! 
> 
> This is not my AU - I'm just playing in it! If you've got questions about it, ask Tanejia!

Anti was being a brat.

Well, what else was new?

Anti was a little shit at the best of times; he may have self described as having a "gooey center," but privately, Chase had a feeling that the "goo" part of the "gooey center" had more in common with melted chewing gum than any kind of... niceness.

"What's up with you, Chase?"

Anti was crowding into Chase's space, and his strange, black and green eyes were practically glowing in the dimness of the kitchen in Chase's small apartment. 

"Not much," said Chase, his tone cautious. "Why are you here?"

"I can't visit my bestest buddy and occasional sex partner?"

Anti's voice was whining, wheedling.

Jerk.

"You can," Chase said, "but usually you have a reason to want to see me, and usually that involves getting your dick wet in some way."

"You wound me," Anti said, putting one hand over his heart.

His long green hair dusted around his shoulders.

Chase rolled his eyes, prodding Anti in the side.

"I need to make dinner," Chase said, trying to keep his tone calm.

"Why do you wanna bother with that shit, when you could be doing so many other things that are much cooler and more fun."

"Such as...?"

Chase's tone was as dry as old bones.

"Well," Anti said, "you could... you could be fucking me."

"I need to eat, Anti," Chase said. 

He was holding his grocery bags, still, and he needed to put them down - his shoulders were beginning to ache, and the tiredness that was weighing him down seemed to yank at his muscles.

He was exhausted enough to lie down on the floor.

Who knew that divorcing could be this soul draining?

Go figure, huh?

He ended up shouldering past Anti, putting his bags of groceries onto the countertop, and then Anti's black and green eyes were barely an inch away from his, and Anti was very clearly trying to get into his personal space.

"I can eat your ass until you can't walk," Anti suggested, his tone hopeful.

"Anti," Chase said, and there was warning in his voice now.

It was the same voice that he used when his children were being bratty.

"Alright, alright," Anti said, and there was a lot of pout in his voice. "Can I at least stick around?"

"If you don't interfere with me making my dinner," Chase said. "If you do, I'm kicking you out."

"You think you can kick me out?"

Anti waggled his eyebrows.

Chase raised an eyebrow.

"You really want to test me?"

There was an... edge to Chase's voice, an edge that wasn't usually there, but Chase had been especially on edge as of late. 

It had only been a few months since he'd moved out of his house - now his ex's house, and they'd agreed on that, because the kids needed to stay in the same place, to help with stability.

He still wasn't used to cooking in this tiny kitchen, still wasn't used to the quiet.

In a weird way, he welcomed Anti, even with all the bratting and general annoyance.

At least it was some noise that wasn't the radio or a podcast.

At least it was someone who was talking to Chase, and not just more words to fill the silence.

Hell, even when Anti was just sitting there, it was better than being alone.

Anti had so much... presence that even just sitting there seemed to warp the space around him.

Maybe it was part of the whole demon thing - Chase didn't have much experience with demons, but they seemed... big.

He'd read a comic once, a long time ago, back when things were still good with his wife, and it had said that demons were... big. 

A demon takes up space not because it consciously wants to take up space, because that was what it did.

A storm held no malice when it blew a house down, a fire had no intent when it burnt a forest to cinders.

It just... was.

And here was Anti, just sitting in the kitchen, just watching Chase put away the groceries like some kind of especially large cat, and he seemed to be filling the whole space.

Chase put the last thing in the cupboard, and then he was leaning back on his heels, looking thoughtfully at it all.

"Why'd you put it all away, if you were going to cook?"

Anti's voice had that note of obnoxiousness in it that always made Chase want to roll his eyes and pinch the demon someplace delicate.

If he even had any delicate spaces _left_ to pinch - so much of his body seemed to be made of scar tissue or tattoos. 

"Because I don't know what I want to cook yet," Chase said. "I just know that I want to cook... something."

"Why do you cook so much stuff from scratch, if you're only cooking for yourself?"

"Because eating nothing but microwavable crap makes me feel gross," said Chase.

"They've got shit that you can cook in ovens as well now," said Anti.

"... what?"

Chase looked over his shoulder at Anti, confused.

"You know," said Anti. "You don't have to cook shit with the microwave, if you object to it so much."

"It's not the microwave bit that I object to," said Chase. "It's the fact that it's, you know, instant food."

They were arguing for the sake of arguing. 

Chase knew this.

Hell, Anti probably knew it.

In his own way, Anti was probably trying to help.

The demon didn't really... understand grief, the way a human would, and he saw Chase drowning in it, and tried to distract him.

The problem was, the main way that Anti knew how to solve the problem was to distract Chase by... annoying him some more.

Anti's heart (such as it was; Chase was never too clear if Anti even had a heart in the conventional sense) was in the right place, at least.

"I don't like eating ready meals," Chase repeated. "And if it's got microwave instructions, it's obviously at least ready to be made in the microwave, which means that they're expecting you to use it."

"So you won't even eat something if it's got microwave instructions?" Anti sounded amused. "That's pretty extreme reasoning."

"I'm an extreme kind of guy," Chase said, his voice deadpan.

Anti burst out laughing, and Chase rolled his eyes, opening his fridge and looking at it critically.

Well, he had ground beef, he had a few cans of tomatoes, he had a bell pepper....

Spaghetti bolognese it was. 

"You're one of the most boring people I've ever met," Anti said, and his voice was teasing, and... closer.

Chase turned around, just in time to see Anti's eyes looking right into his.

Talk about a near heart attack!

The strangeness of Anti's face always struck Chase at moments like this, when they were this close to each other.

Sure, there was the eyes, but it was more than that.

Something about the symmetry of the face seemed to be off balance - almost _too_ symmetrical.

Demons - or at least, this demon - had a kind of ethereal beauty to them. 

A terrible, uncomfortable beauty, that clearly didn't belong on this plane.

Or in Chase's dim, cramped kitchen.

"If I'm so boring, why are you here, bothering me?"

Chase kept his tone careful, measured, as he took a step back, closing his fridge and putting his various accouterments onto the kitchen counter.

He had enough space for a small cutting board.

"Because being by myself is even more boring," said Anti.

"Can't you go bother Henrik?"

"He's busy with stuff," said Anti. 

"And I'm not?"

"You cooking by yourself isn't you being busy," said Anti. "That's just you being pathetic."

Chase clenched his jaw.

On the bright side, he was no longer moping about how much he missed his ex and his kids.

On the... less bright side (dark side? Or was that too Star Wars?) he now wanted to punch Anti.

Which was possibly what Anti wanted.

Sometimes the demon just wanted to goad Chase into punching him, or starting some other kind of fight.

Anti had at least gotten better about all of that - he didn't exactly goad Chase these days, unless he was really worried, or really bored.

"I was going to offer you some of the spaghetti I was making," Chase said, keeping his tone light as he put the bell pepper down on the countertop and began to rattle around his silverware drawer, to get a paring knife and his big chef's knife, "but I guess you don't want any."

"Are you fuckin' kidding me? I'd love a home cooked meal!"

"I thought you thought it was pathetic that I was cooking dinner for myself," Chase said dryly.

"Well," said Anti, "now you're not cooking just for yourself, you're _also_ cooking for me, therefore making you less pathetic. I have single handedly saved you from a pathetic night."

"How thoughtful of you," Chase said, his tone so flat he could have used it for a cutting board.

This cutting board was slightly bowed in the middle, from where his ex-wife had put it in the dishwasher.

It was probably why she'd let him have it without too much fuss.

... no, he was being mean.

He sighed, a long huff of air, and it blew his hair forward and out of his face.

"I do my very best to be a thoughtful person," Anti said, and his tone was so sickeningly sweet that it made Chase want to throw up, just a bit.

Had his emotions always been this volatile, and he was only now getting in touch with them?

That had been one of the reasons his ex had left him - she had said that he never seemed to be in touch with his emotions, never seemed to communicate them.

Well, he was certainly in touch with them now.

And he felt really fucking lousy.

"Well, as one thoughtful person to another," Chase said, "if you keep acting like an asshole, I'm going to kick you out of my kitchen."

"Okay, okay, yeesh," said Anti. "You seem extra sensitive today."

"Call it a long day," Chase said, and he held the pepper in his hand, beginning to cut the top of it off, pulling the seeds with it and dropping it in the plastic bag that it had come with. 

"What did you do?"

"I talked to my lawyer, and I went to work," said Chase.

"I thought you were going to your daughter's ballet recital today," said Anti, and his voice was surprisingly... something or other.

"The lawyer stuff ran long, so I only caught the very end of it," said Chase shortly.

Which was true.

It didn't make him feel like any less of a jerk, though. 

"Why are you even bothering to make your own bolognese sauce, if you could just get it out of a jar?"

"Because I like it better when it's homemade," said Chase.

He cut the side of the pepper open, and then he carefully removed the white pith, then began to slice the pepper, first into strips, then into bite sized bits.

"You make good food," Anti said, and okay, that was unexpected.

"... thanks," said Chase. 

"Can I help?"

Anti looked... downright uncomfortable, and some small, mean part of Chase enjoyed it.

Anti seemed to enjoy getting under other people's skin for fun, and even if he was claiming he had all these gooey feelings for Chase, it was nice to see him actually demonstrate it.

"Do you know how to mince garlic?"

"Yeah, duh," said Anti. "Who doesn't know how to mince garlic?"

"There's always someone," said Chase. "Can you mince up two or three cloves of garlic for me?"

"Right," said Anti. "Where can I find the garlic?"

"It's in the fridge," said Chase. "The little tupperware container."

"Right," said Anti. 

* * *

There was a quiet - an almost companionable quiet, and some of the tension left Chase's shoulders. 

"You should get a garlic press," Anti said, after a few minutes, where the only sounds were of Chase chopping up an onion.

"A garlic press?"

"Yeah," said Anti. "Then you wouldn't have to put all this labor into mincing garlic."

"It's not like mincing garlic is that hard," said Chase, as he carefully chopped the onion.

"Then why are you shoving it off on me?"

"Because if I've got everything already prepared to go, I can just start cooking, and we'll eat sooner," said Chase, trying to sound calm and patient.

"... it'd still be simpler if you had a garlic press," grumbled Anti. 

"I don't have the space for a bunch of useless kitchen gadgets," said Chase, bending down to get a pan out from the cabinet he kept them in, then added the oil.

It was quick work to start to saute the onions, then add the ground beef and the garlic, which Anti scraped off of the cutting board, into the browning meat.

"A garlic press wouldn't be a useless kitchen gadget, though," said Anti. "Think of how much that would save on time!"

"Mincing garlic hardly takes time," said Chase, as he slowly began to add spices to the sauce. 

"Still," said Anti. "Henrik said that you used to have a whole ton of shit like that around your place."

"Those were my ex's," corrected Chase. "I've always been against useless kitchen gadgets."

He dumped the can of tomatoes in - Anti must have opened it at some point - and then began to add spices. 

He didn't have the greatest assortment, but since he'd broken up with his ex, he took an almost malicious glee into cooking with all of the spices she hated.

In went the anise, the basil.

In went the black pepper. 

"Huh," said Anti. "I never saw you as having so many feelings about kitchen things."

"Well," said Chase, too tired to really mince his words (he needed to get a word-presser, and wow, he really was on the end of his rope if he was making comparisons like _that_ ), "it wasn't really my kitchen, it was our kitchen, and if we had the space, she was willing to try it."

"Versus...?"

"I have no space," Chase said, indicating the cramped kitchen the two of them were standing in. "Why would I want a garlic press or a... I dunno, a cherry pitter, or some shit like that."

"I guess you're right," said Anti, his expression thoughtful.

"I actually am, sometimes," Chase said, and was surprised at the bitterness in his own tone. 

* * *

Anti was... suspiciously quiet.

He was quiet when Chase added the tomatoes, he was quiet as Chase stirred the sauce.

"So now what?"

"Now we wait an hour and a half," said Chase, and he was setting an alarm on his phone as he said it, then sliding his phone back into his pocket. 

"... so you made that whole rigmarole about wanting to eat, and you're not even gonna get to eat for an hour and a half?"

Chase shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

"I wanted to make something from scratch," he said, "and this was the least labor intensive thing."

"You know what I think you should do?"

"What do you think I should do?"

Chase folded his arms across his chest, and he leaned against the bit of counter. 

"I think you should let me tie you up and fuck you."

Anti smiled widely, and it was just a bit too wide - too many teeth, and something was up with those terrifying eyes of his that Chase wasn't sure he trusted.

But... for all of Anti's inhumanity, there was compassion in there.

True, it was an alien compassion, as different from Chase's understanding as whit from orange, but... well, it was something.

"Sure," said Chase, because why the fuck not? "But if that overboils - "

"If it overboils on you, I'll move the heavenly hosts themselves to get you some more of it," said Anti.

"I'd settle for you ordering me takeout food," said Chase.

"Fair enough," said Anti, and he smiled again, and leaned in to kiss Chase.

Chase kissed Anti, in the dim, windowless kitchen, and he pressed closer to Anti, his hands going to Anti's long hair.

He twined his fingers through it, and then he just held on, as he was kissed and kissed, kissed until he couldn't think, until all he could remember was to pause and stir the tomato sauce, which was start to burble a bit fitfully.

He pulled back from Anti and he adjusted the heat on the burner, putting the spoon across the top of the pot, to keep it from overboiling.

"If you want to tie me up," Chase said, "Nothing too elaborate. I need to be able to get up, if something happens with the sauce."

"Of course, of course," Anti said, and then he was grabbing Chase by the hand, pulling him towards the tiny bedroom by the wrist.

* * * 

Chase ended up flat on his back, and his wrists were tied together to the headboard by... his shirt.

Chase raised an eyebrow, but Anti shrugged.

"You don't want the handcuffs," he reminded Chase.

"I didn't say I didn't want the handcuffs," Chase huffed, and he wriggled his fingers.

He could have gotten out of this pretty easily.

He was more self conscious about the scars on his belly, but Anti had seen all of those anyway.

Anti would have to be living in a bulletproof glass house to judge anyone about scars, anyway.

Anti sat back, and he was looking down the long line of Chase's body, licking his lips.

He was clearly admiring what he saw, and Chase wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Anti was looking at him like he was something tasty to eat, and while Chase didn't think that Anti had ever actually eaten a person... well....

Anti had very sharp teeth.

Sharp teeth, a strong jaw, and those _eyes_.

"My, what big teeth you have," Chase said, more to get it out of his head than to make any sort of statement.

"You're referencing that one fairy tale, aren't you?"

"Something like that, yeah," said Chase.

He was beginning to shake, from cold, or maybe from something else.

He was having a lot of feelings.

It was strange to look into Anti's alien face, and see glimpses of his own face reflected back.

There was something that look suspiciously like need on Anti's face, and Chase's stomach tightened, with arousal, or... something.

He was half hard - his cock wasn't sure what it was that it wanted, but it was most definitely interested. 

"Let's have some fun," said Anti, and he gave that smile of his again, and Chase's gut clenched like a snake was wrapped around his waist. 

* * * 

Anti sat on Chase's hips, and they were cock to cock.

Anti's cock was hard in his skinny jeans, and Chase's cock was hard as well, rubbing against Anti's awkwardly.

"You look so good like this," Anti said, and his voice was hard, his breathing rough. "Fuck, I could just... fuck!"

"You could just fuck? That doesn't feel very... creative," Chase said, aware that he was possibly taunting a demon that had full access to his dick, not entirely sure how to turn the taunting off.

And then Anti's hands were running along his sensitive sides, and Chase was arching off of the bed squirming, his eyes squeezing shut and his toes curling into the bedsheets.

"I know you make all these jokes about having a dad bod," said Anti, and he was running his hands along Chase's chest, through Chase's chest hair, "but... fuck, you look so good."

Chase flushed, looking to the side, but Anti grabbed him by the chin, forcing eye contact.

"I mean it," Anti said quietly, and there was an... intensity behind his eyes that Chase didn't entirely understand.

Chase wasn't entirely comfortable with it, either.

That much emotion aimed at you can be awkward at the best of times from a human being, let alone something as well and truly alien as a demon.

And this was far from the best of times.

Then Anti was descending, and he was kissing Chase, a hot, wet, open mouthed kiss.

Chase tugged gently at the shirt holding his wrists together, trying to keep up the illusion that he was tied securely.

He kissed Anti, his tongue inside of Anti's mouth, and Anti's fingers were in his hair, Anti's hips were rolling forward, Anti was panting against his mouth, his breath hot and steamy. 

"You're so alive," Anti said, and his voice was still rough as he ground his hips. "Fuck, you're so... you're so warm, how are you so fucking... oh, fuck!"

"Real eloquent," Chase said, and then he was groaning, because Anti was kissing along his neck.

"Where I come from, I'd write poetry to the beauty of you," said Anti, his voice rough. "I'd spill the blood of my enemies to write your stories, as gifts to you."

He pressed a wet, bruising kiss against Chase's shoulder, and Chase gasped, his hips jerking forward, his nails digging into his palms. 

He was going to have a hickey.

At least it would be covered by the shirt.

"Fuck," Anti said again, and then he was kissing lower, his fingers on Chase's nipples. "I can't get over how warm you are, and how soft."

Chase flushed, looking to the side, and Anti made Chase look him in the eyes again.

"I've fucked people who were made of rocks, okay," said Anti. "I'm not going into the whole thing about being fat or whatever, your culture is weird about it. I'm saying that you're made of something more... you know, yielding. Not made of rock."

"I dunno," said Chase, and he flexed his cock in his jeans, mainly to get a laugh out of Anti.

Anti rolled his eyes, but he looked amused. 

Sort of.

"That's the other thing I like about you," he told Chase, and then his fingers were on Chase's nipples, twisting them, as Chase twitched like a landed fish under him, his hips arching upwards, his heels digging into the bed. "You've got a good sense of humor."

"Is this that fabled gooey center you've been promising me after all this time?"

All the sincerity was beginning to make Chase's head spin. How was he even supposed to respond to all of that?

“Something like that, yeah,” said Anti. 

“Can you just… go back to kissing me, please?”

“Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

There was something almost savage in Anti’s expression.

“Yes,” Chase said flatly. “You are.”

He might as well be honest with the guy who was offering to do who even knew what to him, right?

“Fair enough,” said Anti, and he was bending down again, moving lower.

He was… he was sucking on Chase’s nipple, with that nimble tongue of him, and okay, that was… that was more intense than Chase had actually expected.

Maybe he was more keyed up than usual.

But Chase’s hips were bucking up, and his head was thrown back, as he panted up at the ceiling, his heart beating a mile a minute in his ears, in his chest, in his cock.

God, he was so horny right now, so desperate.

Probably why Anti liked him like this - Anti always liked to see him on the edge of giving in.

Not that Chase was exactly there… now, but it seemed that the demon was in that kind of mood.

Chase shuddered, as Anti switched nipples, beginning to twist the other one, and Chase was groaning now, planting his feet and grinding his hips forward.

He was not going to just cum in his pants from a little bit of making out.

Or even a lot of making out.

He was _not_. 

He was a grown ass man with two children, and he had more stamina than that.

Although this wasn’t the time to be thinking of his kids, all things considered.

And then Anti was sucking a hickey into Chase’s stomach, right above his navel, and Chase cried out, squirming some more.

“Oh god,” Chase gasped. “Holy….”

“I’ve told you about that,” Anti said, in a tone that was verging on disapproving. “I don’t hold with that kind of talk.”

“A thousand pardons, mister demon,” Chase said, trying to keep his own tone flat and unassuming. 

“Fucking… really?” 

Anti groaned, and then he was shoving Chase’s pants down without any ceremony, grabbing hold of Chase’s cock with one hand, pumping it hard enough to draw the foreskin back.

Chase _howled_ , his back arching up, thrashing some more, and he was almost sobbing as he bit his lip, sweat dripping down his sides. 

“That’s more like it,” Anti said affectionately, and then he was kissing down the line of Chase’s body, spreading Chase’s legs open. 

He held Chase’s cock in one hand, his thumb rubbing along the slit, spreading pre along the shaft, under Chase’s foreskin.

Chase groaned like he was in pain - he almost _was_ in pain, from the intensity of the feelings.

He and Anti didn’t get together that often, what with one thing and another, and Chase hadn’t even been aware of how skin hungry he had been, until the two of them had begun to keep company. 

Let alone how sexually frustrated he was.

And then Anti was… Anti was wrapping his mouth mouth Chase’s balls, sucking on one tentacle, then going to the other even as he kept pumping Chase’s cock in his hand, and Chase was writhing, panting like he was running a race.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep that up,” Chase warned. 

“Can’t be having that,” said Anti, coming up for air, and then he was kissing along Chase’s belly again, nuzzling into the scarred skin.

Chase flushed, looking to the side, and this time Anti didn’t force the eye contact, just brought his hands up to play with Chase’s nipples, and oh, that was sweet - as was the rub of Anti’s chest against Chase’s cock, as Anti wriggled.

Chase was naked now, even without his socks, and Anti wasn’t wearing a shirt - looking down the line of their bodies, Chase could make out the great scars on Anti’s back, the great gashes that had healed ugly.

He’d have to ask about that some day, if they ever became that level of intimate.

If they ever actually agreed to some kind of tenderness.

But those kinds of thoughts were… frightening, and very much not for a time like now.

Now was for drowning in his far too mortal flesh, now was for ignoring the fog of pain that was filling his brain.

Now was for inhabiting the sack of meat and dirty water that was his body. 

And then Anti was kissing lower again, along the scarred upper thighs, and then Anti was wrapping his mouth around the head of Chase’s cock, and he was sucking on it, sucking hard enough that it almost hurt. 

Almost.

Chase thrust his hips forward awkwardly, shallowly, trying to get more of his shaft into the warmth of Anti’s mouth.

But no, Anti ended up with his hands on Chase’s hips, forcing them down, and he was sucking on the head like a pacifier or a bottle of whiskey, which was making Chase’s eyes nearly cross, his toes curling, his fingers digging into his palm, yanking on the shirt.

It was all so much.

There were some kind of feelings boiling off in Chase’s chest, and he was shuddering harder, as Anti pulled off of his cock, looking up with heavy lidded eyes.

“Want me to fuck you?”

“I thought that was what you were gearing up for anyway?”

Chase licked his dry lips.

“I mean,” Anti said, “I could ride your cock, I could fuck your face, I could just sit here and let you be miserable and leave so that your precious sauce burns….”

“If you do that, I won’t let you back into my apartment,” Chase said.

“That’d be mean,” Anti pouted. 

He was getting up, shoving his pants down around his thighs, then kicking them off.

No underwear - Anti never wore underwear - and then he was rummaging around Chase’s drawers, looking for a condom and lube. 

Chase eyed Anti’s cock.

It was pretty similar to his own - similar enough that Chase had a few… suspicions that Anti was using some kind of complicated… something or other to make it look more human.

Maybe magic, maybe mind control, who fucking knew?

It was Anti. 

You could never really tell with Anti.

But now Anti was crawling between Chase’s legs, and he was tearing open the condom, as he lubed up his fingers.

Chase jumped, when the first two prodded inside of him.

“Those are _cold_ ,” grumbled Chase, but he tried to relax into it, as they began to thrust into him carefully.

“You don’t believe in useless kitchen gadgets,” Anti reminded Chase in a tone that could be read as smug, if not for the fact that he was staring down hungrily at his own fingers sliding in and out of Chase’s ass.

“... what?”

Chase, torn between the intense lust that was surging through him and the fact that he was always a tad confused with Anti. 

“A lube warmer,” said Anti, as he added a third finger, beginning to curl them inside, clearly feeling around for Chase’s prostate.

“That’s not a kitchen gadget,” Chase said, aghast. “Why would I want warm lube in my _kitchen_?!”

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Anti said, pulling his fingers out and drooling lube over his cock. “You ready?”

“Bring it,” said Chase, tilting his hips forward and spreading his legs wider.

Anti smiled like a shark, and he pushed the head of his cock into Chase.

“Fuck,” Anti moaned, as he slowly bottomed out. “You’re pulling me in.”

“You feel so good,” Chase said, a rare moment of intense sincerity from him.

Anti looked down at Chase, his expression full of some kind of terrifying tenderness. 

“So do you,” said Anti, and then he drew his hips back, beginning to thrust.

Chase cried out, thrusting back to the best of his ability, and then he squirmed under Anti, as Anti leaned forward, kissing him with his hot mouth and sharp, sharp teeth.

* * *

Time went away for a little bit - it was nothing but the heat of Anti’s mouth, the thick solidity of Anti’s cock, the sweet lust coursing through Chase. 

Chase’s cock drooled pre, and Chase was fighting his restraints as he wriggled against all of it, squeezing around Anti, and then his cock was beginning to twitch, as he approach orgasm.

Anti was… Anti was talking, and that was goading him along further.

“I love how hot and tight you are,” Anti panted. “Fuck, I love just watching my cock slide into you, I love how you pull it in like that. I bet you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? Not even from me touching your cock, just me fucking you, fuck, your ass is so sweet….”

Anti had Chase’s ankles up on his shoulders, and Chase’s toes were curling in Anti’s hair now, Chase’s knuckles were white from being squeezed into fists, and then Chase was cumming across his own chest, across Anti’s chest, as Anti’s thrusts began to speed up.

“Fuck, Chase, I’m gonna cum inside of you, fuck you feel… fuck, Chase, Chase!” 

Anti cried out in some unknown language, a language that sounded more like wood crackling than like actual words, and then there was throbbing and heat inside of Chase, and Anti was flopping forward, panting, his forehead against Chase’s. 

“Isn’t that better?”

Anti’s voice was rough.

“... it’s pretty good,” Chase admitted.

“And you’ve still got time for your sauce to go,” Anti said, and that was a bit of an olive branch, it seemed.

“Yeah,” Chase said, and he gave Anti a nervous kiss on the cheek. 

Anti kissed him back, and seemed to be flushing. 

Huh.

Chase would need to add that to the long list of things he was going to investigate at some later date. 

It was miles long at this point, and most of it was about Anti. 

* * * 

A week later, when the pasta was long since eaten and the orgasms but a sweet memory, Chase got an Amazon package.

It was a garlic press.

Chase rolled his eyes, but he was grinning a bit in spite of himself. 

Anti was an odd one, but… he had his ways of showing affection.

Maybe Anti really did have that gooey center after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something similar, or something completely different? 
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!


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